Bessie was so glad of
his recollection that she went to him with a bright face--the first
bright face that had come about his bed yet--and he was evidently
pleased. She took up one of his hands and stroked and kissed it, and
knelt down to bring herself nearer to him, all with that affectionate
kindness that his life had missed ever since his sister Dorothy died.
"You are better, grandpapa; you will soon be up and out of doors again,"
said she cheerfully.
He gave her no answer, but lay composed with his eyes resting upon her.
It was doubtful whether the cause of his illness had recurred to his
weakened memory, for he had not attempted to speak of it. She went on to
tell him what friends and neighbors had been to ask after his
health--Mr. Chiverton, Sir Edward Lucas, Mr. Oliver Smith--and what
letters to the same purport she had received from Lady Latimer, Lady
Angleby, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and others, to which she had replied. He
acknowledged each item of her information with a glance, but he made no
return inquiries.
Mr. Chiverton had called that day, and the form in which he carried
intelligence home to his wife was, "Poor Fairfax will not die of this
bout, but he has got his first warning."
Mrs. Chiverton was sorry, but she did not refrain from speculating on
how Miss Fairfax would be influenced in her fortunes by the triple
catastrophe of her uncle Laurence's marriage, her uncle Frederick's
death, and her grandfather's impending demise.
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